


Snowmageddon

by Pezzythecat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Snow, Winter, the rubbish British transport strikes again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pezzythecat/pseuds/Pezzythecat
Summary: Snow? In London? That will never stick .What was Martin to do ? Not offer Jon somewhere to stay on Christmas eve?How many clichés can one writer fit in a fic? check it out and see!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had intended this as a one shot. But I wanted to post on christmas eve ( when it's set ) and the rudness of the fact that the boss came into work and I didn't get to write anything yesterday sneaking on the work computer is just rude. So now its a chapter fic ...  
> So here we go ...
> 
> So here it is my Christmas present to the fandom .  
> Merry Christmas Happy holidays and seasonal greetings to you all!  
> Xxxpezzyxxx

The clock ticked away in the corner of the office, the snow could be seen falling past the tiny slither of a window that lined the archives, melting before it had a chance to lay, the streets coated with that horrid grey slush that left stains on trousers skirts and coats, salt and dirt and smog all accumulating in sludge that had long past the point of pretending to be snow.

Martin sat watching the small flakes try their hardest to create some sort of staying power, they grew heavier as the day wore on from tiny flecks of sparkling promise growing gradually larger, till they bleached down in golf ball sized particles that no doubt would cause untold chaos to the greater London transport system. 

He knew he should be working on the last of his cases before he turned his email to out of office, but his mind was elsewhere. 

Christmas was knocking on the door and the thought of seven days of sitting in his flat on his own was beginning to creep up on him. 

His new flat was walking distance from the institute, albeit a long walk, a fantastic find by Tim within his price range and with plenty of neighbours should any other spooky stalker turn up knocking on the door and refuse to leave. 

At least, Martin assumed he had neighbours, he hadn’t actually seen anyone in the halls, but occasionally the post boxes next to the front door would have the little sign on to say that they had post, so he assumed that the other flats were at least getting the same bills as he was. 

The institute was quiet, most people had already clocked out for the festive season, Tim had hung around until the mandatory christmas party, stating that he absolutely positively could not let the chance to catch both Sasha and Rosie under the mistletoe go to anyone but himself. That had been two days ago, and Tim was now long gone, away to his parents to spend time with them, no doubt in the perfect family unit that Martin could only dream of.

Sasha had finished for christmas the day before, she had pulled Martin in to a bone breaking hug as she had introduced him to her parents. They had met her by the front door of the entrance hall, bundled up against the biting wind and sleet that had pre cursed the snowstorm that now blackened the sky and made the world quiet and dull.

Martin didn’t need to be here, not really. 

But where else did he have to be? 

His mother wanted nothing to do with him, it wasn’t like he had any other family that wanted to see him. Not that he knew where they were, even if they did. 

His dad was all but a blurry memory that he sometimes remembered when he looked in the mirror and saw him staring back in the reflection. 

No Martin was alone, and for the first time in over twenty five years he really didn’t want to be. 

In the past Christmas had just been an excuse for his mother to berate him, to tell him that he was no good, that he was just a shadow of the man who spawned him. 

The man that his mother hated, the man that Martin was terrified to turn in to, cold and cruel and lonely to boot. Christmas had always been a torture to endure, a rushed christmas dinner, the queens speech and then locking himslef away in his room till his mother demanded he join her to watch evening mass. 

Brightly couloured fairy lights and carols singing about the light and love of his fellow man, a million miles away from the harsh reality of the dingy flat and limp looking christmas tree that stood in the corner of a pokie worn out living room. 

No, Christmas may well be a time for joy to all men,but Martin had yet to experience it himself . 

This Christmas was going to hit an even bigger low, Martin would be alone, completely alone, not even his mother and her false traditions to keep him company.

So he had found himself pulling on his coat and making the walk through the slush and his own personal sorrows towards the institute.

At least the heating would be on and he would have Jon to talk to, well if the man ever left his office.

  
  


Around him, the sleepy institute settled into its stillness. 

Christmas songs floated down from other floors, workers not yet ready to journey home for the holidays making the most of the relaxed freedom of a workplace winding down for the season. 

Martin found himself sipping tea as he slowly took down the decorations Tim and Sasha had strung around the place, trying to force joy and cheer upon the depressing darkness of the basement.

Martin was just trying to pull down a bright pink peacock ( What the hell do peacocks have to do with christmas anyway Tim? I dunno Sasha, it was in the bargain bin and it looked lonely so I bought it, so sue me.) so he could shoving it to the Ikea bag that already housed several snowmen, two penguins and a monkey in a pear tree ( they had given up on Tim’s logic and hadn’t even tried to fathom that one out ) when there was a click and the office door opened. 

“Martin? What are you still doing here?” Jon asked looking up from his phone to where Martin stood on the kick stool trying to grab at the tail feathers of the questionable decor. 

“Work?” 

“Did you not take the day off?” Jon asked quietly, eyes scanning the vacant archives.

“Didn’t see the point, not like I have anywhere to be is it?” Martin found purchase on the Peacock plucking the thing from it’s roost and shoving it in with the rest of the decorations.

“You don’t ?” Jon seemed shocked, it was genuine, you could tell it in the way he twisted his face as if trying to find the right words to say. 

Martin took pity on him, he was well past feeling bad about the fact that he was going to be alone, and to be fair he was getting used to the idea that this was just his life now, he would get used to it eventually, wouldn’t he? 

“Nope” he popped the p as he shoved the Ikea bag in the bottom draw of the filing cabinet. “Just little old me and a microwave Christmas dinner for one this year, still it’s better than being stuck in document storage I guess.” he shrugged eyes darting to the tree that stood in the corner, its droopy branches trying their hardest to support the awful fairy lights that Tim had somehow managed to balance on the nearly bare branches of the half dead thing.

It was pathetic to look at, Tim probably took pity on it and wanted to liberate it from it’s demise. It was a sweet thought but the thing looked long past dead and to be fair, looked like it was left over from last year's festivities. 

“I guess.” Jon muttered pulling Martin’s attention away from the wilting harbinger of death in the corner.

“So what’s Jonathan Sims’ plans for the big day?” 

“More or less the same as yours I should imagine. Not exactly the most exciting of days.”

“Not off to see the family?”

Jon winced, it was a full body thing he practically folded in half. Martin had obviously hit a raw point, he applauded himself for the total lack of tact. Why didn’t he think before he spoke?

Jon sighed, sliding his phone in his pocket. He gave his head one simple shake before finding the tree just as fascinating as Martin did.

Under the branches sat a smattering of presents, and for the first time Martin noticed the name tags hanging from the neatly wrapped red parcel that sat atop the pile. 

A pile that was nowa tiny bit bigger than the last time he had taken notice of it. 

Tim had wrapped up anything he could get his hands on in his festive onslaught. Martin’s stapler and Sasha’s snow globe had been wrapped in paper that had dispersed glitter the length and breadth of the archives, to be found stuck in shower drains and floating in cups of tea for the foreseeable future, but the neatly wrapped parcels that sat under the tree now carried non of Tim’s calling cards. The red paper had robins and owls embossed on it, wrapped tightly in a dark green ribbon that curls into a neat and tidy bow. 

They hadn’t done secret santa this year, Tim had insisted on buying everyone matching fingerless gloves in rainbow patterns to keep off the bitter chill that cut through the archives, and Sasha had invested in new mugs for them all that now sat proudly by the sink, yet to get a single chip or crack between them. 

Martin had been at a bit of a loss, having never really bought christmas presents before but Tim had been ecstatic at the personalised pop figure he had gotten and Sasha had taken great pride in sticking the plaque up that announced her as the world's greatest hacker. 

The gift he had bought for Jon sat in its gift bag in his top draw, he was waiting, but he wasn’t quite sure what for.

Maybe some sign? Some divine intervention? He had spent too long pondering what to buy Jon that it now felt as if it was something a lot bigger than it was, some gigantic gesture, and maybe it was?

He hadn’t bought Jon a gift last year, but then again last year Jon was a completely different person. Funny how accusing someone of being a ghost can change the dynamics in a couple.

No not a couple. 

Whatever Martin felt towards Jon, it wasn’t returned. 

No matter how much he wanted it.

“Did you get your stapler back?” Jon asked picking up one of the glitter encrusted monstrosities holding it to his ear with a little shake “I would rather like my glasses case back at some point, if Tim could just direct this creativity into his work…”

Martin chuckled “You haven’t been out on one of his fact finding missions recently then have you? You should get him to tell you about the woman in the doll shop who he convinced he wanted to adopt her freaky looking dolls. Have you seen a reborn doll? I thought porcelain dolls were freaky but reborns? They wouldn’t look out of place in artifact storage.”

“A what?”

“Two seconds, I’ll show you.” Martin pulled out his phone to google the cursed thing trying not to linger on how nice it was to have Jon’s full attention, it happened so little these days. 

He dreaded to think what this google search was going to do to the algorithm but it couldn’t be any worse than flesh hives, so he guessed he could deal with one or two questionable ads.

He looked at the image results offering up his phone to Jon, not wanting to look at the things any longer than absolutely necessary. 

“What in the name… why would anyone want…” Jon scrawled the search results looking traumatised. Martin didn’t blame him. There was something unsettling about the eyes, something very wrong with them looking so life like. 

“You would be surprised how many make their way into statements, Tim has made up quite the convincing lie about how he and his husband are desperate for a child of their own…”

“Husband?”

“I will have you know I am grade A spouse material, well if Tim is to be believed.” Martin felt his face start to flush, Jon’s gaze wandered up to him from the phone. 

“Well who am I to argue with Tim’s fine judge of character.” the sternness in Jon’s voice obviously hadn’t sent the message to the man’s face, the corners of his lips were turned up in a smile.

“I would, often. I mean for a while he did say Elias ‘wasn’t that bad’ He can’t be trusted.” Jon handed Martin back his phone and unwrapped the glittery parcel in his hand, out tumbled Sasha’s snowglobe, the London eye buried in yet more glitter. Jon sighed and placed it on Sasha’s vacant desk resigned in the fact that he wasn’t going to get his glasses case back without a fight.

“I’m sure if you had sat still long enough he would have wrapped you too.” Martin looked down at his phone, just as an alert flashed across the screen. 

“Erm… Jon?”

Jon turned his attention away from the present shaking (Martin noticed he had yet to touch the red one ) 

“Yes?”

“You need to get the train to get home don’t you?” he asked cautiously, aware that whatever he said next was going to probably cause a small nuclear meltdown in the mind of the man before him.

“Why?”

“Just, transport for London has had a full system shut down on the tube, and the overground has had a power outage…”

“You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was.” Martin pulled up the alert and showed the screen to Jon. The smaller man visibly sagged as he read the notification. 

“How are you going to get home?” Martin questioned as he glanced out the window at the snow, that against all odds now piled against the narrow slip of a window. How had it gotten so heavy so fast ? The flakes he could see floating past the window were huge, almost the size of tennis balls. He had never seen snow like it, it didn’t snow like this in London. It had barely snowed like this up north either, this was strange and unusual, no wonder the capital had ground to a halt, on christmas eve of all days too. 

“Taxi?” Jon prompted walking over and leaning against the radiator to try and see out the window above his head. Martin fought the urge to go over and pick him up so he could get a better look. Jon looked just as enthralled in the descending snow as Martin was.

“Did you win the lottery? It’s Christmas eve, you're looking at thirty quid before you even get out of Chelsea, and you live down past Bex heath don’t you?” 

Jon nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on a rather large snowflake that had stuck to the glass.

“Maybe they will get it up and running?” 

“At five thirty? I doubt it.”

“Bus?”

Martin pulled up a journey planner, tapping at his screen and knowing before he even hit enter the answer wasn’t looking positive.

“Last bus to Bexley left ten minutes ago from Victoria.” 

Jon swore. 

Martin found it charming. 

“How are you getting home?” Jon asked him when he stopped swearing under his breath. 

“Same way I got here,on foot.”

“On foot?”

“My flat is about a thirty, forty min walk? Although it wasn’t snowmageddon on the way in to work this morning.” Martin sighed coming over to stand next to the radiator and look at the deserted snow covered street outside. “Trust us to get snowed in at work, Tim would have a field day with this.” 

“Well, he does say that I practically live here, Christmas in my office seems quite fitting.”

“You are not staying at the institute over Christmas, firstly, we both know that cot is not comfortable, secondly there's no food not even leftovers from the Christmas party and even Tesco closes on Christmas day, and thirdly it’s Christmas…”

“Yes, I believe you made that point quite clear.” Jon looked at him over the top of his glasses. “Do you have another option?”

“I don’t…” he paused “Actually yeah I do.. come be with me.” the words left his mouth before his brain could catch up.

“ I … I mean, stop at mine…” Martin could feel the heat and he doubted it had anything to do with the radiator that burned against his leg. 

Jon was silent, watching as the sky seemed to darken with every passing second, the clouds laden with even more snow. Martin’s insides churned, what was he thinking? The stupidity of the offer going around on a constant repeat in his head.

“Okay.”Jon said eventually. “If It’s not putting you out too much?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if it was, would I?” the twisting in his stomach had changed from snakes to butterflies. Still left him feeling sick though, Jon was going to come stay at his. Had he cleaned? Did he have enough in for two people to eat? Where was Jon going to sleep? But Jon had seen Martin at his worst, he had seen him lost and scared and he had even seen him in his undies. After that, the idea of Jon seeing him in his pajamas didn’t seem quite as bad.

“Come on, grab your stuff, let's get out of here before we need a flamethrower to get out the front door or something.” 

Martin watched as Jon moved to go get his things from the office, waiting until the door was closed before he opened the top draw of his desk and grabbed the gift bag containing Jon’s gift, shoving it in his backpack before the man in question came back out of the office. 

When he had bought it he hadn’t thought that he would get the chance to give it to Jon on Christmas morning, but then again when had anything in Martin’s life ever met expectations?

Jon emerged from his office, his great coat pulled tight around him and his satchel slung across his shoulders. He looked cosy, the tiny flash of colour at his wrist was the only indication he was utilising the gloves that Tim had bought him, the purple standing proud against the dark teal of his coat.

“Good to go?” Jon asked, pulling a beanie hat out of his pocket and pulling it down over his head and ears. 

Martin shook himself, he had been staring, he knew he had. It wasn’t fair that Jon could have this power over him. 

He grabbed his own coat off the back of the chair throwing it over his hoodie and pulling on his own knitted beanie he nodded.

“Ready when you are.” Martin hoped the nerves he felt didn’t show in his voice. He clicked off his work computer and slid his laptop in his bag, flicking off the archive lights as he reached the door, plunging the basement into a hazy pink darkness.

Pink?

“Fairy lights.” Jon exclaimed as he darted across the dark room, pausing momentarily before the christmas tree before he flicked the lights off at the wall, the eerie green off the emergency exit sign was all that illuminated the space now, but it must have been enough for Jon to see by as he reached his side again, adjusting his satchel as he pushed open the door.

“After you, after all you know the way.”


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, oxfords were not the right footwear for navigating the snowy streets of London town, Martin had never been more grateful that he had invested in a pair of Doc martens with his first proper paycheck then when they tried to climb the snow covered steps as they made there way up to Battersea bridge. Beside him Jon struggled to maintain his balance as he struggled to make out each individual step under foot. The snow had blown the steps into an almost perfectly flat surface, and it was impossible to work out where the snow ended and the concrete began. 

On Jon’s fourth missed step Martin stuck out an arm for him to cling on too. Jon reluctantly took it, not looking at Martin in favour of watching where he placed each foot, how the death glare didn’t melt the snow underfoot was a testament to how heavy the snow was falling.

With Martin’s help they made it to the top of the steps, the snow made the darkness of the winter night inky blue, the constant falling snow casting orange halos around street lights and traffic lights, the city seemed muted and calm. A million miles away from it’s chaotic self. 

Around them the world was winding down, coming to rest as families gathered together, safe and warm behind closed doors. 

Jon hadn’t dropped his grip as they had found more solid footing, his legs unsteady even on the freshly laid snow, it reminded Martin of Bambi all limbs and no way to control them. 

Every so often Jon would mutter under his breath and grab tighter upon Martin’s jacket as his shoes would find a patch of ice under foot and send an appendage careening off to it’s own devices.

Martin wasn’t stupid, he knew that Jon was just using him to help stay on his feet, but the idea that he was walking home on christmas eve with Jon on his arm made something deep in his chest burn viciously. He hadn’t missed the look that people had given them as they passed or the small festive smiles that they had cast their way. 

To an outsider they looked like a couple heading home for the holiday. 

For the second time that day Martin had allowed himself the thought of him and Jon as a couple, he could have this, a little fantasy, his own gift to himself. 

Martin went rigid as Jon’s legs decided to go the exact opposite way to the direction they were traveling .

“You didn’t think to put on shoes that had grips this morning?” Martin asked as Jon righted himself, his face flushed as the cold bit at their cheeks. 

“I hadn’t exactly planned on traipsing across London in the snow this morning , or I would also have had my Doc’s on, it's less than a hundred meters to the tube, I wasn’t expecting to be following in the footsteps of Edmund Hillary…”

Martin smirked “you should always be prepared for the worst possible outcome.” 

“I dread to think what that would be when our work is involved.” Jon Muttered turning his collar up to the biting wind as they rounded the corner. 

“Here.” Martin reached up unfurling his scarf and wrapping it around Jon’s neck, “we can’t have you dying of hypothermia. God knows who Elias would get to replace you.” 

Jon stood still as Martin folleded the deep blue scarf over and pulled it tight. He looked like he wanted to say something, you could almost see him milling over the words in his mind. But he settled on a ‘thankyou’ as Martin offered him up his arm again if he wanted it. 

Jon didn’t take it,but he did fall in to step close to Martin, within grabbing distance if needed. 

They walked in silence till they reached the end of the street pausing only so Martin could buy them tea at the only place they had found open so far, the takeaway cups felt like lava against cold fingers but the contents warmed them through as they headed across Battersea park, the screams and shouts of the children ( and adults) brave enough to face the snow filled the normally green space. 

“I haven’t ever seen snow like this.” Jon said as he gazed over that park, the light casting the park in a strange almost twilight pallet, eerie and peaceful but serene in a way Martin couldn’t quite explain. 

“It’s like snow out of a hallmark movie, it almost doesn’t look real.”

“We very rarely got snow on the coast growing up, not enough to even make a snowman.” Jon said as he moved in closer to Martin’s side sipping on his tea.

“We changed the words too slushy the snowman,” Martin offered in a way of an answer, Jon was giving away part of himself, he never spoke about his childhood, to be fair he rarely spoke about himself.

“We?”

“Me and my dad, it’s one of the few things I remember, before he buggered off,” where had that come from? He never spoke about his dad ever. “Sludgy the snowman, with a head that’s made of stones, with a broken bike and your grandads pipe and we build him in the road.” he sang under his breath.

“How very northern.”

“Hey coal is a commodity, can’t be using it to make snowmen, or sludgemen... “ Martin laughed. “You southerners have it easy.”

“Oh yes clearly, I mean did they send you down the pits as a child also? Did they make you take a bath in front of a fire like a Dickensian waife?” Jon laughed back, it made that thing in Martin’s chest sing to hear it. 

“Absolutely, not even an orange in our christmas stocking, wasn’t even a stocking, was a sock, darned and patched.” 

“How positively awful.” Jon smirked, throwing his cup in the bin and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “I mean look how far you have come, you get to spend Christmas with your evil Scrooge of a boss, however will you cope?”

“To be fair, It’s a step up from the original plans, I can think of worse people to spend Christmas with, speaking of, where does Elias go for crimbo?” 

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it? I’m guessing he must have some swanky flat close to the institute. His work hours are even more chaotic than mine.”

  
  


“I don’t think that's possible, unless he has a secret bunker in the back of his office, can’t see Mr Armani suits slumming it on a camp bed, can you?” they paused in the gentle glow of the shop lights as they stepped out of the park. Martin was more than aware of how close Jon hovered now, moving gently in his orbit. 

It felt nice it felt natural, like this was something they did all the time.

Martin suddenly found the top of his cup fascinating, he had been staring again and there was no hiding it this time, he was sure that Jon had seen him, but to his surprise Jon kept up the gaze, face turned up to him and lit by the Christmas lights and halogen shops signs to Martin back. 

It was almost romantic, like a cheesy seasonal department store advert, all longing glances and promises of getting home in time for Christmas eve. London looked wonderful in the snow, almost something from a Disney movie or a fairy tail.

The sound of a car revving its engine as it tried to get up the snow covered bank made both of them jump.

“Anyway, my flat’s not far.” Martin flustered throwing his own now empty cup in the rubbish. “The snow is pretty but I dunno about you, I’m freezing.”

Jon made to pull off the scarf from around his neck.

“Don’t you dare.” Martin scalded. “ You need all the heat you can get, I’ve got plenty enough body heat, let's just get moving before we lose visibility.”

“Again, lead the way.” Jon nudged him then, tucking in close to his side as the snow seemed to become heavier. Martin longed to throw his arm around the smaller man, to willingly share his body heat, but that seemed like one step too close to being too much.

Although Jon seemed determined to squirrel his way as close as he could to Martin’s side shielding himself from the onslaught of this strange and unusual eastern cold snap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah the joys of writing on your phone. 
> 
> All the typos are mine this thing is coming at you from my mothers floor on a deflated airbed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading  
> Yell at me in the comments or find me on tumbler @pezilla


	3. Chapter 3

Martin’s flat belonged in a generic block of new builds. Shops and businesses lined the ground floor, dark and empty now the clock was well past seven. 

The lights from the flats above were the cold halogen ones that lit the magnolia walls. They looked all but vacant, no obvious signs of life from the back lit panes of glass. 

"Home sweet home " Martin tapped in the door code to the overly bright entrance way, the large black sign on the sandstone wall declared the building Overlook towers.

Martin watched as Jon read the words aloud. 

The doorman was vacant from his spot behind the desk. Nothing unusual there. The grey-haired man who moved silently as a ghost and whose vacant eyes would follow you up the corridor till you reached the lift, was never at his station when you actually needed him, like when your hands were full and you needed him to call the lift. 

A lift, Martin was suddenly aware was not all that big. 

Jon silently followed him. Not commenting on the bland décor, Martin knew how awful it was. 

The hospital ward theming reminded him strongly of wasted Sundays, waiting for his mother to mutter anything in his general direction. 

They travelled up to the twelfth floor. Martin trying his hardest not to fidget and looking anywhere but at Jon. 

Now they were in the harsh light of his tower block, he longed for the muted comfort the snow had wrapped them in outside. 

Martin fiddled with his keys as they got to the threshold of 217, Overlook towers. 

Beside him, Jon laughed.

"What's so funny?” Martin asked, pausing with his key in the door .

Jon grinned at him… a genuine grin. Martin didn't think he had that in him .

He pointed at the keyring hanging from Martin's keys. 

"Don't I need an axe and to declare 'here's Johnny ?' " 

"I'd rather you didn't start seeing ghostly twins outside my flat thanks, I've had enough supernatural beings at my door to last me a lifetime." 

"The lift wasn't full of blood, so I think you're ok? " 

Was Jon actually joking with him? About a horror film, of all things? 

Tim had bought him the Overlook Hotel keyring when he moved in, stating that it was only right to draw attention to such a cult classic like the shining. 

Martin had silently agreed, but he made a point of complaining about it on principle. 

Still, he hadn't expected Jon to put together the reference. Let alone be so amused by it . 

"Well, if you could just restrain from any axe related murder till at least the new year, that would be super. " Martin pushed open the door. 

His flat wasn't grand, it wasn't massive. But it was his. 

The cramped accommodation was made up for by the fantastic view.

From his floor he could see all the way down to the river and right across to canary wharf on a good day. 

The world felt a million miles away when viewed from the window.

As they moved into the flat proper, Martin stripped his jacket, throwing it over the coat rack. Leaning on the arm of his sofa, he started undoing his boots. 

Jon however hovered in the doorway .

"Do I have to invite you in? I know you're not a vampire, your voice records on tape." Martin joked, hoping that Jon would take it as his cue to step over the threshold and close the door behind him.

Martin flicked on the lamp by the sofa, dousing the flat in a warm glow more reminiscent of the world outside than the halogen eyestrain of the hallway. 

That seemed to snap Jon out of whatever place his mind had wandered off to . 

He moved into the flat; the door clicking shut behind him . 

He removed his coat hanging it beside Martin's with care and then towing off his oxfords he placed them next to Martin's own boots. 

That did something to that strange aching feeling in Martin's chest. He itched to comment on it. But said nothing as he caught sight of the sorry state of…. Well, everything Jon. 

The socks on his feet were soaked through and the snow had penetrated the wool of the man's coat. Darkening his jumper underneath in patches where it had soaked through. 

Jon also seemed reluctant to give up the scarf wrapped around his neck, burrowing deeper into the chunky knit where it rested against his cheeks. 

Jon seemed to catalogue Martin's flat. 

His eyes darted to the sofa, then the bookcase case where his tiny television sat. 

Martin's kitchen was small, but it served its purpose, plus he could cook and watch old episodes of Doctor who and Bake-off while he cooked. It wasn’t much, but it was a million miles away from the flat he left behind. Plus, no air vents. One less thing to block if monsters came knocking again .

That was when Jon sneezed. 

Martin rushed to turn the heating on, ushering Jon towards the bright yellow sofa.

"You're soaked through, make yourself at home and I will see if I have anything that will fit you."

He didn't wait for a response, ducking into his bedroom and kicking the door closed with his foot. 

Jon Sims was in his living room. 

Jon Sims was staying the night. 

Jon was going to be sitting in his living room staying the night and would shortly wear something that Martin had given him from his own wardrobe.

He was in a state of what Tim would call gay panic and had never been happier that at least there was a door between him and the epicenter of the emotional explosion that currently had him wanting to climb out the window and find out if he could actually fly. 

_ Get it together _ , the voice in his head that sounded like Tim yelled at him . 

Tim, he should text Tim, he would know what to do…

But his phone was in his coat pocket, hanging by the door, past where Jon was hovering uncertainty in the middle of his flat…

Martin's stomach did a flip . 

Maybe he should just call a taxi for Jon… it couldn't cost more than a hundred to get the man home, right? Maybe he could write it off as expenses? Elais always said he didn't claim enough …

On the other side of the door, Jon sneezed again. 

_ Pull it together, Blackwood.  _

He wrenched his own jumper off, throwing it in the laundry pile that the unused chair in the corner had decided to cosplay as for lack of a better use. 

He opened his wardrobe and scanned the piles, settling on his favourite sweatpants and a t-shirt that claimed him to be Manchester University alumni (if he had found it in Oxfam well nobody needed to know about that now did they) now for the issue. Jon was very much smaller than he was, jumpers and things would be easy to come by, but trousers? 

He finally found a pair of flannel lounge pants at the bottom of the wardrobe. 

They at least had a drawstring waist, so at least they would stay up even if they were stupidly long on Jon. 

Martin quickly changed clothes, aware that the longer he took, the longer Jon had to sit around in soggy clothes.

He grabbed his warmest pair of socks as he headed back into the living area.

Jon looked up at him guiltily.

"I don't know what happened… your settee just …" gestured at the sofa, it now lay horizontal in its frame.

Martin chuckled "did you press the button?" He gestured at the metal arm on the frame. 

Jon nodded.

"It's a sofa bed. It's supposed to do that. I've caught it so many times I've lost track of how many cups of tea I've lost to its wild and welding ways."

Martin offered out the pile of clothes to Jon, who at least now only had a shadow of guilt on his face. 

"Bathroom is next to the front door, I'll stick the kettle on should I? " he pushed the sofa with his foot shaking his head when it didn't budge. Oh well, it could stay like that. 

He was going to have to make it into a bed for Jon later, anyway. 

He rearranged the scatter cushions, so they rested against the kitchen counter (it sat flush with the back of his sofa, the joys of living in London) at least they could be comfortable while they drank tea and ate whatever he scrounged.

Jon had hovered, watching for a few moments before disappearing into the bathroom, Martin retrieved his phone from his coat pocket as he waited for the kettle to boil.

(Eldritch basement goblins)

Tim ( the hot one)

WHY IS THE BOSS AT YOUR HOUSE?  _ 7.30pm _

Sasasaurusrex 

What? Jon is at your house? What why? 

Martin?

Martin?  _ 7.36pm _

  
  
  


Martin looked down at his phone, he hadn’t text Tim and he definitely hadn’t sent him a WhatsApp, that could only mean one thing, Jon had.

The kettle clicked and Martin went about making two cups of tea, the novelty of pulling out more than just his own cup from the cupboard forced a smile on to his face.

Forced might have been too strong a word, he had done a lot of smiling tonight, but the sight of a second cup on the counter was so alien to him that he couldn’t help but snap a picture and send it to the group. He couldn’t find the words.

(Eldritch basement goblins)

Tim ( the hot one)

So it is true? Did you kidnap him or something?  _ 7.46pm _

Martomcfly

No Tim, I didn’t kidnap the boss, it snowed and London ground to a halt, he nearly died twice just getting to mine, I wasn’t letting him walk all the way home  _ 7.47pm _

  
  
  


Sashasaurusrex

Oh how romantic, your first Christmas together, if i had known I’d have gotten you an ornament for the tree.  _ 7.47pm _

MartoMcfly

Piss off Sasha  _ 7.48pm _

  
  
  
  


“I’m taking it by the way your phone is buzzing that the work gossip mill has gone into overtime?” Martin looked up from his phone and nearly dropped the cup in his hand. 

Jon looked tiny, bundled in his t-shirt . It fell awkwardly off his shoulder exposing his skin to the steadily warming air of the flat. Martin tried not to linger on it, noting how adorable the fact that Jon had to roll up the bottom of the lounge pants that he had borrowed was. 

It paired nicely with the fluffy black and orange socks that now adorned the other man’s feet. 

Cosy wasn’t a word he had ever thought he would associate with Jon, but now it was the only word that seemed to fit. 

“Oh...um.. Yeah…”Martin stuttered slightly “ You gave Tim hot gossip, he needed to check it was valid.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything to him, but he text me to ask if I had gotten home ok and well…”

“No it’s fine Jon, I don’t mind… Unless you do?” Martin stepped towards him offering up the other cup in his hand, Jon didn’t make eye contact taking the mug and warming his fingers against the porcelain. 

“Not if you don’t.” 

“If I cared what Timothy Stoker thought about me, I would never get any work done, I mean at least then you would have an excuse to criticize my work ethic.” Martin tried for a joke but it fell flat, Jon was looking between the phone in one hand and the cup in the other, he looked off.

After working with Jon for as long as he had Martin thought he had worked out the subtle nuances of Jonathan Sims. 

Oh he could spot a Jon tantrum brewing from a mile out. 

He knew when he caught Jon in a lie, the way he would force you to make eye contact, as if that would make you believe it as the truth. 

He knew sleepy Jon, the one that would grumble and complain if you pointed it out to him, heck he even knew sick Jon, the most stubborn of them all, but yet he couldn’t place this expression that currently took up residence on the other man’s face.

“I can still try and get you an uber if you don’t want to stop Jon it will be what? sixty quid?” Martin asked, Jon however seemed to snap out of the revere he had fallen into.

“What? No don’t be silly… this is… this is …” Jon sipped on his tea. “ This is fine,” the corners of his mouth turned into a smile. “Sorry Martin, I’m just...this is fine.”

“Oh well now if you have decided that it’s fine, sit down and drink your tea. I’ve got nothing in that will feed two so I will have to- ”

“You don’t have to put yourself out.”

  
  


“Jon kindly sit down and shut up, I have a Chinese, a Lebanese two kebab shops and a chippy within walking distance, one of them should be able to provide us with something better than beans on toast.”

“I’m fine-”

“It’s a tin for one Jon, I know you don’t eat a huge amount anyway, but even that would be pushing it between the two of us.” 

Jon submitted, shuffling over to the sofa bed, one leg of his upturned lounge pants slowly unravelling as he made his way to the chair. With the sofa laid flat like this by the time he reached the makeshift backrest the overall effect was endearing, his feet dangling in thin air where they hung off the edge of the mattress.

“Ok fine, but i’m paying, after all I’m invading your Christmas eve and your flat.” Jon crossed his arms before him, glaring over his glasses.

“Ok then I get to pick the food, hope you like Chinese?”

  
  


********

  
  


Watching Jon use chopsticks had been an education, apparently the tolerance he had for the utensils lasted as long as it took for the king prawn to fall out from between his sticks for the fourth time. 

The shorter man groaning and running his free hand through his hair in an annoyed and exasperated manor.

“I can get you a fork?” Martin couldn’t eat for laughing, the two of them sat side by side, cross legged as ‘Scrooged’ played on Martin’s telly. 

“I can do it!” The look of concentration on Jon’s face had forced him to part his lips and lean forward over his bowl determined not to drop the thing again. 

“Pick the damn bowl up and bring it closer to your face.” Martin couldn’t help but dissolve into hysterics again when the prawn fell off again and Jon stabbed it with the end of his chopstick spearing it with a little cry of victory. 

“Check you out, one of life's natural predators, a regular Jon of the jungle, who would have thought it!”

“Oh Piss off,” Jon nudged him with his knee leaning over to spear a spring roll with the exact same technique that had ended the prawn. 

“My hunting technique is impeccable.” when Jon moved back however Martin noticed the gap between them had grown considerably smaller.

He tried not to think about it, tried to watch as Bill Murry got abused by the ghost of Christmas present, Carol Kane hitting a pitch that only dogs could hear. 

But somehow even his favourite Christmas movie and his favourite scene couldn’t drag his attention back from the creeping constant presence of Jon.

Jon was looking at his phone again, it was perched on the opposite knee to the one that was currently resting over Martin’s own.

Hold on, when had that happened? 

Martin didn’t have time to process this information before his own phone vibrated.

  
  


(Eldritch basement goblins)

  
  


Tim ( the hot one) 

What’s this about you having the boss on the bed? _ 9.45pm _

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Tim?” Jon asked as he lent over and helped himself to a wonton, not even bothering with the chopstick anymore, he popped it into his mouth, Jon seemed so different like this, he almost seemed relaxed, the exact opposite to the nervous wreck that Martin currently felt. 

Tim was right, he was sitting on the bed with his boss, his goddamn visible from space crush, and Tim knew about it. 

What was Jon saying? That he was some sort of predator? That Martin had somehow managed to trick him into sharing a bed?

This wasn’t the set up for some shitty hallmark movie, although to an outsider it had all the signs of just that.

“What did you say to him?” Martin asked quietly, aware of the fact that Jon was now resting his hand on his own knee, his fingers brushing gently against Martin's thigh where he tapped away, a tick that Martin knew meant Jon was nervous. He tapped a lot when there were spiders in his general vicinity , if they ran out of tapes or if Elias summoned him up to the office. 

“I just said that I thought I’d broken the settee? But it was really a bed so it was fine?” he paused his face almost going as white as the snow outside. 

“Oh god, what did Tim say?”

Martin flashed the phone towards Jon making sure to not to show him anything but the last message. 

It was one thing for Tim and Sasha to tease Martin, but Jon didn’t need to be subject to it also, it might make him uncomfortable. 

“I suppose it could have been worse, it is Tim after all. I thought he knew me better than that. He should know I’m not one to simply fall into bed with anyone… not that you're anyone… I mean...well you are ,your  _ Martin  _ but... _.”  _ there was something in the way he said that, the way he twisted the words with such affection. 

“Do you want to hand me the spade now? Or should I let you keep digging?” Martin laughed and somehow the resulting grin in response that spread across Jon’s face was the most natural and beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

He wanted to take a photo, to remind himself when Jon was having a conniption over the latest disaster that befell the basement he could look back on it and remember this, this right here. 

This moment was perfect, or as close to perfect as Martin had ever experienced before.

“Let’s take a photo to prove your innocence, that you aren’t using your wild mountain man skills to seduce your hapless employees.” it was a brave move, but he could always pretend to delete the photo later, but he wanted proof that even for only one night he could be happy.

It was a testament to how close Jon was sitting that he didn’t have to move far to get both of them in the frame. He angled the phone so it showed the kitchen counter behind them, and the slowly growing pile of abandoned takeaway containers. 

He wasn’t prepared for the feeling of Jon’s arm around his back and his cheek pressed against his own as they posed.

Martin shot several photos in the shock hitting burst mode. 

Beside him Jon gave a content sigh as he seemed to sink even more into Martin’s side. 

It was so sickeningly romantic and domestic Martin needed to breathe. 

He jumped to his feet. 

“I have cider?” he said rushing to the kitchen hoping his face hadn’t gone as red as he thought it had. God he was such an idiot, was he that much of a loser that getting a photo taken with his boss would send him into a spiral.

Jon’s head appeared over the kitchen island, “Oh go on then, seeing as it’s Christmas.”

Martin didn’t reply fumbling about in the fridge to pull out a bottle. 

“Martin?”

“Two seconds I don’t know where the bottle openers went. '' he tried to calm himself, scrambling through the draws, looking for the utensil, looking everywhere but at Jon. 

“Martin?” Jon said again, this time from across the room, his phone in one hand and set of keys in the other, a bottle opener hung around Jon’s little finger he swung it while leaning against the tiny windowsill that ran the length of Martin’s flat. 

Jon made no intent to move, his eyes gazing at the falling snow again as it fell past the postcard perfect view. 

The image of Jon framed in the window would prompt many poems in the future, to Martin it was perfection, but something that would forever be out of his reach.

“Photo any good?” Jon asked.

Martin hadn’t even looked, he had been so knocked for six by the comfortable way that Jon had touched him, that it had all but slipped his mind. 

He scrawled the photos, the twenty photos on the roll told their own story, it caught the image of Jon, looking at Martin with all the same affection that Martin threw his way in spades. 

Was this what Tim saw? Was this what Sasha had meant by they were always looking the other way? Because the people in his phone looked very much like a couple, especially the love sick look that adorned Jon’s face as he threw his arm around Martin.

“They aren't bad.” Martin suddenly felt brave, “I think we could take better.” 

He moved across the flat handing Jon the phone to look at the mini photoshoot. 

Jon flicked though the album, a smile spreading across his face just as both his and Martin’s phones vibrated. 

“I think we ignored Tim too long, he’s probably decided that we have eloped and ran off to the Maldives or something.” Jon said, handing Martin back his phone in exchange for the bottles. 

He opened them, placing them side by side on the window sill. 

Martin turned his attention to the snow falling, although it was proving difficult when Jon was moving closer by the second. 

“He wants us to, and I quote 'stop snogging and answer him right now, god damn it…” Jon said looking up from his own phone to look at Martin. 

Martin was eternally thankful that he had yet to take a mouthful of cider, or it would have been sprayed all over the window in shock.

The awkward chuckle from Jon was almost to much for Martin to process,

"Subtle as a brick through a window that man." Jon rolled his eyes . 

"He doesn't have internal thoughts, Tim, all external and all someone else's problem” he braved a sip of his drink. “Wish I could be like that, it would make life a lot easier.”

“Yes, Tim does seem to have an effortless ease that would be greatly appreciated in more than one instance.” Jon fussed with the section of hair that kept falling from where he kept tucking it behind his ear, there was something so open about it, so vulnerable that Martin longed to reach out and tuck it back himself.

In his hand the phone vibrated again violently.

A glance showed that it was Tim, trying to video call them in WhatsApp. 

“I’m not answering it.” Martin shook his head, muting the phone just as Jon’s started ringing.

“He’s like a puppy with a new play thing.” Jon said placing his phone face down on the windowsill.

“Well hopefully Santa gets him something nice for Christmas and he can stop hunting us for sport.” Martin joked, suddenly remembering the present that sat in his bag, if he was waiting for the best moment, well then this was it . 

When was he ever going to get another chance like this, it was Christmas eve, they were alone.

Well apart from Tim and his constant bombardments through technology. 

“Hold that thought.” Jon said, stepping away and heading towards the door where his coat and his bag sat just as Martin turned to his own bag on the table behind him.

Martin pulled out the gift bag, the shimmery fabric glistened in the warm glow of the lamp by the sofa. 

This was stupid why was he so nervous it was just a damn gift after all.

When he turned Jon stood back at the window, the city below him backlighting him as he sipped on his drink. He looked so at home, huddled near the radiator as the snow continued to fall behind him, it was as if the little nook had been carved out for Jon to fit in perfectly.

That was when Martin noticed the red parcel in the other Man’s hand, the green ribbon now slightly squashed and no longer in the nice neat bow that had adorned it in the archives. 

“I…” Jon placed his drink down and fussed with that errand bit of hair that Martin had found so fascinating. 

Was he nervous? Was that a nervous tick?

“Martin, I… I got you something...I wasn’t expecting to...well here.” 

Jon pushed the parcel into his hands as he reached him, oblivious to the fact that Martin held a present in them already. 

If Martin hadn’t been completely gone on Jon already, this may have been the thing that did it. He looked so nervous, absolutely terrified at the simple act of giving a gift. 

“Jon? Look at me?” Martin asked timidly, he wanted to see Jon’s face, Jon’s eyes, to try and ground him before he went off on a spiral. 

As soon as Jon looked up, and looked him square in the face, Martin was left speechless.

The look in the other man’s eye’s was the same as the one he had seen in the photographs. The one that Martin had heard about but not actually seen first hand. 

If he had, it would have left no doubt in his mind about the way Jon felt about him. He looked at him now as if he were the center of his world.

It was all too much, and at the same time not nearly enough.

“I… I got you something too, I was just waiting for the right time…” he held out the bag, trying to keep his voice steady. “But well, Merry Christmas.”

Jon carefully took the bag, “Oh, erm. Thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“ If I hadn't, then I would have looked like a right wally when you gave me a gift and I hadn't gotten you one wouldn’t I?” Martin looked down at the present in his hand, so neatly wrapped and carefully tied, he almost didn’t want to open it.

He looked at the name tag.

**_Martin,_ **

**_Merry Christmas_ **

**_Jon x_ **

  
  


He stared at the little X for far longer than he should, he was eternally glad that the rest of the archive staff weren’t about right now, his face felt a little like the centre of the sun.

“Are you going to open it?” Jon prompted when Martin didn’t make to peel back the Sellotape. 

“I was reading the tag!” 

“Well obviously it's from me…” Jon nudged at his side. 

“Well I know that, It’s got your name on it and everything.” Martin joked as he began to carefully unpick the ribbon and unstick the tape. At his side he could almost feel the breath that Jon was holding. 

The red wrapping paper fell away. Underneath a pale blue book came to view, slightly battered around the edges, he could make out the title ‘ Selections from Keats: Poetry and Prose’. 

The book was old, but not ancient, battered but loved. 

But most of all it was from Jon. 

“I figured you would want something with a bit of age, and I wasn’t sure if you would have any of the newer prints...If you don’t like it-”

“Jon, you idiot , I love it.”

Martin turned the book to the light cast from the lamp, the last of the fading lettering glittering against the blue cloth binding. 

He flicked to the front page and almost checked for a Leitner book plate before realising that Jon wouldn’t give him a cursed book.

He did however find the note that Jon had placed between the pages. 

The small square of card almost fell to the floor before Martin caught it.

**_Thank you for having faith in me._ **

**_Even when I don’t have faith in myself,_ **

**_Yours_ **

**_Jonathan._ **

  
  


Jon cleared his throat. 

“I hadn’t intended you to find that while I was with you.” The man shifted from foot to foot. Staring at the bag in his own hands. 

“Open yours.” was all Martin could say through the suffocating emotions that were building steadily into either a panic attack or a full blown breakdown, right now he wasn’t sure who or what was in control of his emotional dexterity but he knew it wasn't him. If the first name tag had given him reason to stop and think the dedication in the book had given him enough to write a whole dissertation on the subject of loaded messages.

Jon looked at the name tag before slowly pulling off the Sellotape that sealed the bag. 

Martin clutched the book to his chest with one hand reaching out to silence the phone( that had yet again begun ringing from its perch on the window) with the other.

Compared to the book, the thick cashmere scarf seemed generic, but it had taken Martin a long time to settle on it. 

It was a deep mustard yellow, the shade of the jumper that Jon always complimented him on whenever he wore it.

It was big enough to wrap twice around Martin, so he knew it would wrap Jon tight and keep away the cold. It was also thick, and when spread out flat could easily be used as a blanket. 

  
  


“Martin..” Jon sounded enamoured with his gift. “I love it.” 

Jon placed the gift bag on the table then made to wrap the scarf around himself, Martin reached out as he struggled to throw it around his shoulders. 

He placed the book down carefully on the table and stepped into Jon’s space, taking the scarf in hand and folding it carefully so that it would wrap correctly around the smaller man’s neck.

He went to hand it back to Jon to wrap, but instead of reaching out to take it, Jon inclined his head, almost offering up his neck , indicating that Martin should do it. 

The room was loud, the sound of his heart pumping blood around his body just that little bit faster echoed in his ears. 

He was dreaming right?

He had fallen and banged his head getting that bloody peacock down from the wall and he was in a coma. 

It was the only feasible explanation as to why Jon was looking up from between Martin’s arms as gently wrapped the soft cashmere around him. 

Too much Jane Austin, and one too many hallmark movies, it had made his comatose brain come up with this ridiculous place for his mind to rest. 

As coma’s went, this wasn’t too bad.

“It's so warm.” Jon said pressing his face into the fabric and in turn Martin’s hand where it sat under the material. 

“I thought, well that when you inevitably fell asleep at your desk again-” ( Jon made a clicking noise of disapproval with his tongue) “you could use it as a blanket, keep you warm.”

On the side both of the phones vibrated. 

But Martin paid it no mind. 

Right now there was nothing but Jon. 

He still hadn't moved from where he pressed his cheek into Martin's hand, eyes now closed as he curled into the caress.Jon was warm to the touch. The cold of the storm, all but forgotten now . 

He wasn't imagining this. 

It was really happening. 

Jon was so close he could feel the rise and fall of the breath in his chest. Could count the silver scars that scattered the arch of his eye socket, down over his cheek bones following the dark sleep worn bags under his eyes that on anyone else wouldn't look quite so endearing. 

Martin let his other hand come up to gently push the lock of hair that had teased him all night into his rightful place. The touch made Jon’s eyes flick open, searching out his own. 

Jon pinned him with his gaze. 

Martin had never felt more seen. 

The next thing he was aware of was the sensation of pulling, fingers wrapped in his hair as Jon pulled him down to meet him halfway. 

Jon was kissing him.

It took a few moments to comprehend what was happening, his brain unable to associate the actions with the feelings that coursed through him , the sensation of someone moving in his personal space, after being so alone for so long . 

But his body thankfully had taken over in auto pilot, even if he was at a loss as to what to do with his hands, the kissing bit came naturally. 

Jon’s lips on his own were the only thing that mattered.

His hands finally came to rest, one behind Jon’s head another in the small of his back. 

Martin knew Jon was built on the small side, but the muscle under that scrawny frame came as a pleasant surprise, he had expected to feel nothing but bones when he ran his hand along Jon’s side. 

He deepened the kiss, and tried not to be surprised when Jon didn’t pull away. The way that Jon kissed him back left him chasing his breath, gasping like a man condemned to suffocate under the onslaught. Martin let Jon take the lead, let him kiss him till his mind was racing and all of him felt as if it were charged and ready for whatever Jon could throw at him .

When they finally broke apart, unfortunately. Jon jumped as his phone vibrates from its perch on the window and landed on the floor. 

  
  


“Do you think he will get the hint if we keep ignoring him?” Jon glanced at his phone , twenty seven missed video calls was excessive, even for Tim. 

When Martin reached out to grab his he wasn’t at all surprised to see that he also had over twenty missed calls of his own.

“He’s a pest.” Martin jostled slightly as Jon curled himself back into his chest, turning to watch the snow falling gently outside the window. 

He found himself bringing his arm up to wrap around Jon resting his chin on the other man’s head, he half expected Jon to pull away, but he did the opposite, resting his head further into the groove of Martin's collar bone.

Martin couldn’t help but marvel at how neatly Jon fit into the space, like he was destined for it .

When Jon spoke it vibrated the length of Martin’s chest “We should call him back.”

“We?” Martin squeaked.

“Unless you want-”

“NO! We...is good. We...is great even.” Martin rolled the idea on his tongue “We…us.” 

Jon raised his phone to face height, hitting the call button. 

Behind him Martin was still trying to get his mind around the idea of a Us.

He caught sight of the two of them in the tiny square in the corner of the phone screen. Jon was smiling; it made the years fall off him. 

No books of poetry would ever top the way that one image alone made him feel.

Martin couldn’t help but press his lips to the crown of Jon’s head as they waited for the phone to connect.

The fuzzy image of Tim came into focus, a huge heavy laden Christmas tree in the corner of the room gave off a fuzzy glow as his phone tried to pick up the call.

“About time you bloody called me back boss, I was getting worried . Sash, stick the big light on will you?” Tim’s crackling voice came through the speakers on Jon’s phone. 

Sasha? Why was Tim with Sasha?

“What did your last slave die of?” Sasha said, sliding into view and plonking herself down on the arm of the chair as Tim’s phone picked up the new light source and brought him and her into focus.

Martin expected Jon to move away, this seemed like it was too much too soon. 

He hadn’t expected Jon to ring Tim right now. 

They hadn’t even discussed it between themselves…

But Jon moved his free hand now to take hold of the one that Martin had wrapped around his waist lifting it so he could twist their fingers together and still hold on the scarf where it wrapped around his shoulders.

“Sorry Tim , we were a bit busy.” Martin said as he pulled Jon closer.

“What the actual fuck!” Tim said, almost dropping his phone. Tim’s reaction was exactly what Martin had expected yet it still made him feel shocked at such a positive reaction from their friends.

“Well don’t you too look cosy.” he raised an eyebrow accusingly as Sasha adjusted her glasses for dramatic effect.

“Martin’s flat is quite warm, it’s very cosy yes.” Jon said nonchalantly

“You know what I’m on about.” Tim said accusingly as Sasha sunk into his side. “What’s with the cuddling? what's with ignoring me… your best boy, your wingman.”

“Tim.” Sasha warned moving past him to grab his phone. 

“Sasha.” he stuck his tongue out in her general direction as she pointedly ignored him .

“So, I take it your respective gifting went well? Took you both long enough” She addressed them both.

“You knew about-” Jon started.

“You two are so easy to manipulate do you know that,” Sasha said, cutting him off, holding her free hand up between her and Tim where he was trying desperately to get her attention. 

“A little nudge was all it took. Oh and if you're still looking for your stapler Tim has it here. He put it in my stocking. Because he is an idiot.”

“Hey, I resent that I’m at the very least a lovable idiot.” 

Sasha rolled her eyes but she dropped her hand, letting Tim invade her space again. 

“Hum, I dunno, My dad seems to still be on the fence about you.” Sasha grumbled

“I’m telling you, he just needs to spend a little more time around me. I grow on people.” Martin watched as Tim pulled her into a trademark Tim squish and the phone jostled around showing the room they were in, it currently looked like Christmas had thrown up in there and Martin was beginning to doubt that the décor of the office had solely been on Tim's head.

“Yes, a little bit like mould.” Jon ribbed. 

“Hush you. I’m having a domestic with the Mrs.” Tim said as an aside to the whispered conversation him and Sasha were having on the other side of the phone.

“Now hang on that’s getting a little ahead of ourselves, Mrs?” Sasha shoved him “Just cause I brought you home for Christmas.”

“Fine … life partner, love of my life, my shining star...her indoors…” Sasha hit him with a throw pillow. 

“Can I remind you that you wanted me here for Christmas? I was quite happy to stay on Dad’s farm… but no... someone wanted to see their boyfriend on Christmas.”

Martin could feel Jon chuckling to himself. 

“I take it that in your own backwards way the two of you are telling us that it’s an official thing now then ?” Martin asked, pulling Jon just a little tighter.

Sasha recovered the phone from the carpet where she had dropped it. 

“It was only a matter of time, sorry boys I’m taking him out of the talent pool, not that the two of you need to worry about that now hu?”

Martin could feel the heat burning in his face, he went to answer but Jon beat him to it.

“No, I think we're good here.” 

“Yup just took a bloody act of god to push them together.” Tim grinned, 

“don’t think I don’t want a blow by blow account of how you seduced Blackwood boss, Ive been trying to do that for years, but he's oblivious. I've been outsmarted by the alpha geek. I’m slipping Sash, you sure you still want me now I’ve lost my charm?”

“Don’t worry Romeo, I still love you, now let's say Merry Christmas and go, I’m sure they don’t need you third wheeling there Christmas eve.”

“I just want confirmation.” Tim shushed Sasha with his hand. 

“I just want to clarify, the hugging is cause you two crazy kids finally realised you like each other right? This isn’t a day after tomorrow situation where your having to cuddle to keep warm or you will freeze to death-”

“Merry Christmas Tim, Sasha, we are going to go now…” Martin said, taking the phone from Jon as the smaller man buried his head into Martin’s shoulder “Sorry what was that ? your breaking up … its the snow…”

“That doesn’t work in a vid-” 

Martin hung up on them placing the phone back on the windowsill and turning his attention swiftly back to the man in his arms. 

Jon turned his face towards him. 

“So Tim and Sasha ?” Jon asked quietly.

“World's second worst kept secret? Yeah that’s a thing.” Martin smiled as he adjusted the scarf to wrap around the two of them.

“So what’s the first ?”

“What ? Secret? Would have thought that was obvious?” 

Jon shook his head, but Martin stilled him, leaning down to place a kiss upon his lips.

“Well it was a big one, I mean I didn't want you finding out but I might have given the game away.” he muttered against the soft exhale of Jon’s breath.

“Yeah? Going to share?” Jon muttered back his lips bustling against Martin’s own.

“Well as long as it goes no further.” he kissed the full stop. “Got a bit of a thing for the boss, I’d hate for him to find out about it.” 

  
  


Jon’s face flushed, this close Martin could actually make it out in the dull lights of his flat.

“How awful for you ? What sort of thing?” he joked.

“I’m a little bit besotted with him if I’m honest? Have been for quite some time.” Martin tipped Jon’s head up so he could see his face, he looked lost for words, something that Martin would wear like a badge of honour. He had done that .

“How very awful for you, from what I’ve heard about him he sounds like an absolute wanker, I wouldn’t waste my time.”

“Oh he can be, but see…” Jon cut him off again standing on his tiptoes to catch Martin's lips again. “That’s cheating.” he said breaking away.

“You did it to me?” Jon pouted. 

“Yeah well, I’m allowed to, when you do it it’s-” Jon stole another kiss. 

Martin could get used to this. 

Martin wanted to get used to this.

“You aren't helping with the besotted thing…”

“Good, I intended to encourage it, everyone should have a hobby…” God this close up Jon was even more intense. It felt very moorish when it was directed right at him.

“I take it you liked the book?”

“I do, I’m glad you gave me it in person, means I can say thank you.” Martin traced the curve of Jon’s face with his thumb, turning his face up to hold it steady as he placed a gentle kiss on his bottom lip.

“Oh is that what you’re doing, with the kissing? Saying Thank You?” Jon muttered angling his head so he could move to deepen the kiss. 

“Mmhm.” Martin muttered against The other man’s lips letting Jon take control of the kiss and setting the pace. 

It was slow and steady almost as if Jon were trying to work out just the right way to move his lips against his own to pull a little gasp from him.

Martin wasn’t aware of the passage of time, not with Jon in his arms. 

They had settled now Martin resting against the wall with Jon pressed into his chest watching the snow falling thick and fast over the sleepy suburbs. 

Somewhere in the night the clock struck twelve. 

“Merry Christmas.” Martin muttered, pressing his lips to the crown of Jon’s head.

“It is, isn't it?”

“What?”

“A Merry Christmas. Let's hope for many more.” Jon tugged at Martin’s hand pulling him towards the sofa bed. 

“Jonathan Sims, that was almost romantic.” Martin grinned as he climbed onto the sofa bed and pulled Jon into his arms.

“Whatever you do, don’t let Tim here you say that.” Jon raised an eyebrow accusingly.

“I have a reputation as a bit of a wanker to uphold.”

“Not a word” he crossed his heart with his finger. 

“I think I have room at the top of the list for a new secret. The last one isn’t all that secret anymore.”

Jon stretched out yawning, the scarf still wrapped around him as Martin reached for the remote.

“The choices are ‘White christmas’ or ‘it’s a wonderful life’.”

“Can’t I have both?” Jon asked looking at the snow and then grinning at Martin, barely holding back the yawn.

“For you, we can do both.” and just because he could he pushed Jon’s hair away from his face. “If you managed to stay awake.”

“I will stay awake just put the damn film on already.”

“And there's the Jon I know and love.” Martin muttered as the movie started and Jon snuggled into his chest.

“I heard that,” Jon muttered sleepely into his chest. 

Martin pulled him closer, he should be mortified revealing his hand like this but he couldn’t be, not when it was the truth, this grumpy little ball of disaster was all he had ever wanted and he really did love him, from the bottom of his soul.

“I mean it.” He said squeezing Jon just a little tighter.

“You too.”

“Hum?”

“The thing you said, me too... about you…” Jon spoke into his chest, hiding his face “Just in case you wondered.” he might not be able to see it but he could feel the smile as it spread across Jon’s face. 

“Oh well, that works out well then,” Martin kept his eyes glued on the television aware that this was Jon’s way of expressing himself, Jon talked around the words. 

Just as well Martin had a vast experience of reading the words that were woven between the lines.

Jon didn’t make it to the second film, in fact neither he or Martin made it through the first act of the first one. 

With Jon curled against his chest Martin drifted off into the best sleep he had had in years, and happier than he had been in a lifetime.

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry seasons.
> 
> Happy new year.
> 
> Its not as neat as I had wanted it to be but here it is the last bit! I just am sick of looking at it now to be fair!
> 
> let me know what you think. 
> 
> X pezzy

**Author's Note:**

> Let it snow let it snow let it snow ....
> 
> Next chapter will be next Thursday.  
> Hopefully


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